


Always

by etoilecourageuse



Category: Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Femslash, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/etoilecourageuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rebecca would always be the mistress, and Danny would always be her servant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gehayi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gehayi/gifts).



> I really hope that you like this! I haven't written Rebecca in a while, but I've always been in love with Danny and incredibly fascinated by her and her relationship to Rebecca - it was lots of fun writing this for you!

There were many things that Mrs Danvers and her mistress had in common – even if Rebecca in her short lifetime had constantly denied it. They were the same, truly, but why should a Rebecca de Winter admit to such a thing? Danny, as she had always called her (whether affectionately or not she had never known but come to adore her nickname nonetheless), was at first nothing but another servant to her, another faceless girl whom she would scarcely look at, but even as they had come to love each other… 

Love. Yes, yes they had loved one another, and their love had been the purest of all, a love so strong that they once believed it would be capable of defying anything, of giving them the ability to conquer the entire world. Love… They had loved each other, and laughed together at the men that would come to them – Danny, too, had had her fair share of admirers, a fact that Rebecca had always failed to acknowledge, but why should she, if it would not matter? – in the foolish belief that they could be a suitable match for either of the women. Maxim de Winter had been no different to the others, disgusting in his arrogance and conviction that he were to triumph, but Rebecca’s parents had made a decision, and for the first time in her life, the young mistress was not to defy them. 

It would change nothing about them, of course, as nothing could ever tear them apart (the imagination alone had once nearly choked Danny, but she had soon regained her composure and nearly laughed at her own foolishness), and yet… Yet, Rebecca had never forgiven her parents for what they had done. 

But neither of them truly cared whether they were to pass their time in Manderley or Rebecca’s childhood home – it did not matter, none of it mattered, as long as they were together. They had loved each other, truly, deeply, but even years after for the first time they had allowed their bodies to melt together as one, to be truly complete, Rebecca would hear nothing of equality, would shake her head and laugh, laugh not in the way she laughed at the men, her entire body shaking, but laugh as she would laugh at a joke, perhaps, quietly, nearly coldly. Mrs Danvers would never admit, not to her mistress and least of all to herself, that in her weakest moments it frightened her. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Danny,” Rebecca would say, handing her the hairbrush and turning towards the mirror so that still they could look into one another’s eyes. How she had loved her eyes… “How could a lowborn girl like you be the same as I? Just look at you and your talk of equality… You should be ashamed of even thinking such a thing. And now I shall hear no more of it.”

Danny had obeyed. Of course she had, had fallen silent at Rebecca’s request but smiled, a faint smile, not even for her mistress to see. If only she knew, she thought… If only her mistress knew. 

In fact, Mrs Danvers was far from being a lowborn girl as her mistress occasionally found such pleasure in pointing out, as far as Rebecca herself. She, too, had been born into a noble family in the North of Scotland, she, too, had once been a lady, a young mistress with servants, with maids… But alcohol had made her father cruel after her mother’s so untimely death, had caused him to sell his only daughter to a man, a gambler, who would abuse her day by day and make her a widow at the age of eighteen, leaving behind nothing but debt for his young wife, as well as a name she despised. 

What other choice did she have, then, than to leave her past behind and seek employment? Return to her childhood home, return to her father? No. What other choice did she have? 

“I would rather starve myself to death than be forced to work for a single day in my life,” Rebecca had once told her, scarcely deigning to look at those she deemed beneath her, good, toiling people, and nearly shivering with what seemed like utmost disgust for those who had not been fortunate enough to live in wealth. Danny, for what felt like the first and only time since she had met her mistress, had avoided crossing her gaze for the rest of the day. 

If only she knew, she thought, if only… But what would it change, if she did? Perhaps Rebecca would not believe her, if one day she were to reveal her past to her, perhaps she would laugh once more… Mrs Danvers cared not, could not care less about her ancestors who had never treated her in the way Rebecca had treated her… She was her mistress in every way, better than her in every way… And how beautiful she was, more beautiful than any woman she had ever seen. Danny herself had once been beautiful, but the work, no matter how much of a pleasure, had made her weary and hardened her features, had caused her to age faster than Rebecca. There were no more than six years separating them in their age, even if at times it sometimes felt as though it were sixteen. 

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps she had always been right, perhaps they were not equals, perhaps Danny in her so unconditional admiration and love for her mistress had foolishly made herself believe that she, too, had once been so graceful, that she, too, had once been so strong and so fierce as her, that she truly was to be considered an equal. Even when during the night they lay side by side, Rebecca would always be her mistress, would always be her superior, would always be her lady. 

But none of it mattered any longer. Rebecca was gone, gone too soon, claimed by the ocean, gone and never to return. Danny, who had more than once promised to her never to lose composure and never to show weakness, had broken her vow, had cried, cried and cried and cried until her eyes had become so sensitive to any light that she could have screamed out in agony each day she stepped out of her chamber into the wide halls of Manderley. She had cried, until the wind came howling at her window as though it were Rebecca, ordering her to stop. Even in death, she was her mistress, would always be her mistress. And Danny would always be her servant.


End file.
